


Release the Kraken

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peter's a good husband, Stiles is Magic, The Steter Network Monthly Prompts, Water, baths, killing monsters, monthly prompts, washing hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:10:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12097413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: “Hey,” Stiles says, pulling back a bit. “It was in the water and it attacked us and I’m going with kraken. Prove to me it wasn’t.”





	Release the Kraken

Peter doesn’t stop along the way, he just pushes Stiles directly to the en suite bathroom, rubbing his back as they go.

“Fuck, I’m cold, Peter, I’m cold,” Stiles whines, and Peter knows it’s true; his teeth are chattering while he talks.

“I know, love, I know. Come on, let’s get out of these wet clothes.” He quickly pulls his own shirt over his head, and strips off his wet jeans while watching Stiles toe off his shoes and shimmy out of his khakis. Normally he hates them, wishing Stiles would wear something more flattering, but now, he’s happy they’re easy to peel off. “Here, wrap yourself in these,” Peter says, handing him a couple of the bath sheets from the towel bar. He had enough sense to use his phone to turn the heat before they got home, so the room is toasty warm, probably warmer than Stiles would normally like it, and uncomfortably hot for the werewolf.

“’Kay, thanks, and can you get this thing off my head?”

Peter looks at Stiles’ plaid shirt, the one he wore when they went out to fight the Bunyip who moved into the preserve’s lake. Another thing that shouldn’t be there, but this is fucking Beacon Hills and it attracts everything. How they aren’t sure, but that isn’t really the issue, is it?

“Yeah, first, drink this,” he says, filling the glass by the sink with water. “Drink this, okay?”

“Ew, bathroom water,” Stiles says, but takes the glass and swallows half of it. “I hate bathroom water.”

“For the millionth time, Stiles, there’s no difference between kitchen tap water and bathroom tap water,” Peter says, sighing, at their long standing disagreement.

“It tastes different, I can tell,” Stiles answers, but at least he finishes the glass. Magic always leaves him dehydrated.

“Of course you can, and thanks for drinking it anyway.” He steps back and looks at Stiles, whose flannel shirt attached to his head after their fight. It was a victory, and they have to remember that. One dead Bunyip and two living pack members. “I think first, I’ll cut as much of the shirt off as I can. Then we figure out what to do with what’s still stuck. You okay? It doesn’t hurt or burn or anything?”

“It’s heavy, but that’s probably because the shirt is so wet from the lake and the rain.” Stiles sighs, shutting his eyes, trying to find a comfortable way to rest against the back of the toilet tank. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you get anything on you?”

“I guess I was behind you. I’d say having your back, but apparently I didn’t help.” He gets a pair of scissors out of the cabinet and steps forward, lifting parts of the shirt that aren’t glued to Stiles’ head. “Let me know if I’m hurting you.” He starts snipping away the pieces of the shirt that are easy to cut away, back and collar and other parts. As he cuts he looks at what’s still stuck to Stiles’ head. “It looks like the arms are really attached. How’d that happen?”

“Well, the spell worked and when I saw the kraken was exploding, I got hit by some of its goo and then tried to cover my head and…”

“It wasn’t a kraken, Stiles,” Peter answers and continues to cut, getting closer to Stiles’ actual head.

“Hey,” Stiles says, pulling back a bit. “It was in the water and it attacked us and I’m going with kraken. Prove to me it wasn’t.”

Peter sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever. I’m just glad it didn’t get more goop on your skin. Your hands were tucked in your sleeves?”

“Guess so,” he says and tilts his head. “You have a little here.” He touches the side of his chin. “Don’t touch it!” Stiles says, taking Peter’s hand before he can touch his face.

“Thanks, I’ll take care of it in a minute.” He snips a bit longer and most of the shirt is off Stiles’ head. What’s left is bits and pieces stuck in his hair. He tugs, gently, on a piece and when Stiles pulls away, muttering, “ow” Peter stops.

“Sorry. We’re down to the parts that are really stuck in your hair.” He looks at the trashcan, full of pieces of shirt and says, “Okay, let me go get a couple of things; I’ll be right back. You okay here for a minute or two?”

Stiles shrugs and grips Peter’s arm for a second. “Don’t be long, okay?” he says, and his heartbeat spikes.

Peter kisses the his cheek and heads into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of pairs of scissors and filling another glass for his spouse, this time with something a bit stronger. He stops by the bedroom to pull on a pair of yoga pants and pull something out for Stiles to sleep in later. Then a stop at the linen closet to grab the old towels from the bottom of the stack before making a final pit stop to the hallway bathroom. After a couple more he returns to where Stiles is sitting where he left him, head tucked into one of the towels. “Drink this and let’s see what we need to do.”

Stiles takes the glass and looks at it and looks at Peter. “What is it? Smells strong.”

“Orange juice, I thought you needed the sugar.” He sets more scissors on the counter and says, “And a bit of tequila. To help you relax.”

“Just when I didn’t think I could get any more nervous.” He takes a sip and yawns. “This’ll hit me hard, I was fasting today for the spell. And I’m tired already, so just get the kraken crap off me?”

“You drink and I’ll cut,” Peter says, taking a small pair of scissors and starting to snip the bits of shirt out of Stiles’ hair. They can always get more scissors.

“Wait,” he says, taking Peter’s wrist. “You’re sure this won’t just wash out? Or maybe we can use something else? There’s a bottle of Goo Gone in the garage.”

“It won’t come out with water, I tried on myself. Not to mention we got soaked with rain after being in the lake. I think we’ve tried enough water. And we’re not putting chemicals like that on your head.” Peter snips a bit more and steps back to study the results.

“Hey! You got it off your face!” Stiles says, taking Peter’s chin in his hand. “You shaved! You’re all clean and bare and you have that chin butt I like!”

Peter rolls his eyes and smiles. “Yes, I had to shave everything off. And I had to pick some of it off as well with my claws, but I think it’s healed already. Trust me, the kraken goop doesn’t come off easily.”

He works quietly for a bit, the only noise from the scissors as he snips. “There, I think I have all the shirt cut out. Thankfully, whatever crap you use in your hair kept the goop for getting down to your scalp.”

“Let me look,” Stiles says, trying to push up and turn towards the mirror before Peter pushes him back down.

“It’s not… It could be worse. And remember, your hair grows very fast.”

“I am not comforted, Peter.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes going big. “There’s nothing there. And it’s all choppy and…” He stands and turns, jaw dropping as he turns his head, looking in the mirror. “Oh my god, now what?  I look like my head got caught in a blender. I mean, I know I’m not a model, but…”

“Nonsense, you’re gorgeous, hair or not.” Peter moves around him and pulls a box out from under the sink cabinet. “Luckily, I kept the clippers.” He plugs them in and turns them on, the buzzing loud in the small room. “Sit again, and I’ll finish up.”

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Stiles says and slumps back down on his seat on the toilet, wrapping the towels around himself again, suppressing a shiver.

“One second.” Peter turns the taps on to fill their bathtub, pouring in a healthy dose of bubbling bath oil, so the room fills with a soft, lavender smell. “Okay, that’s for when we’re done,” he says, and starts pushing the clippers through what’s left of Stiles’ hair. “It’ll be nice, we’ll get all cleaned up and warm and everything’ll look better tomorrow.”

“Smells nice.” Stiles finishes his drink and raises an eyebrow. “Everything will look better like my hair will look better tomorrow?”

“Your hair’ll be fine - like I said, it grows fast.” Peter steps back, studying Stiles and then goes back for a bit more clipping. “I think it’s even now,” he says. He takes the towel from around Stiles’ neck and says, “Get in the tub, and I’ll clean up.”

“Clean tomorrow, tub with me now,” Stiles whines, pulling Peter towards the soaker tub he insisted they needed. Stiles made fun of him when they were looking for the right place to live, but he’s spent more time in it than Peter has. After a quick look in the mirror, he shakes his head and says, “Good god, I look 16 again.”

Peter kicks the towels and other mess into a corner, pushing down his yoga pants as he approaches the tub. “Room for us to share?” he asks, smiling.

“Of course. For a little bit. If that’s okay,” Stiles asks, and all Peter can think is, dammit he does look so young with that fucking buzz cut.  

Peter settles in the bath and Stiles sits in front of him, pressed back to chest, finally sighing and relaxing. “You okay if I wash your hair a bit?”

“Sure, I’ll never argue about that.” Stiles relaxes and lets Peter scrub his hair and rub his shoulders getting some of the tenseness out. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell my dad about my hair. He’ll know something happened.”

“Maybe you should tell him we were playing naughty student and strict teacher and you dressed the part. I doubt he’ll ask more about it,” Peter says, smirking as he kisses the back of Stiles’ head.

“He might want to believe that instead of the option.” He’s silent for a bit, head tilted back on Peter’s shoulder, enjoying how the wolf rubs his face against his throat. “Thank you. You know, for tonight. Thanks for everything.”

“I didn’t do much.” Peter’s still trying to decide if he likes the short hair. He imagines it’ll be a different feeling on his thighs, which might be interesting. “You did everything, as you usually do. You and your magic.”

“No. You pulled me out of the lake and kept me from drowning when I went under the water. And you’re here in the water with me now, keeping me from drowning.” He sighs and his scent turns bitter for second. “I hate water. I hate drowning.”

“I’ll always be there for you,” Peter says, keeping his voice mild. He hates druids and alpha packs and druids again. “I’ll always take care of you. You’re mine and I love you.”

“You love me, I know,” Stiles sighs. “So you’ll make me breakfast tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, I’ll make you a big breakfast. After you sleep in.”

“And we’ll drop the chalice back at the church, right?” Stiles asks. “Let that priest know things are okay.”

Peter shifts a little, helping Stiles sit up. “And you can flirt. Tomorrow or the next day, yes. For now, let’s get out and you get to bed.”

“Tired,” Stiles mumbles, making half an attempt to dry himself off. “You coming to bed?”

“Be right there, just need to check the locks.” Peter watches Stiles stumble off to the bedroom and double checks the locks on the doors and windows. One more stop in the kitchen for a package of peanut butter crackers in case Stiles wakes up hungry during the night. He prefers these to granola bars and Peter thinks they might have a little more protein.

When he gets to their bedroom, his husband is already asleep. He’s got the shirt on, but missed the pants and only made it half way under the covers. Peter puts the snack on his bedside table and plugs in Stiles’ phone before he tugs the comforter enough to drape it over Stiles before he moves to his side of the bed and slips under the covers. Stiles rolls over to him, seeking heat and security without even waking up.

He scents his boy one more time, shuts his eyes and joins him in sleep. Everything else can wait for tomorrow.


End file.
